If I was alive, I’d have a job.

Maybe not a great job. Probably not my dream job of being a writer of television shows.

I have the skills but I don’t have the ability to go hustle for jobs and really sell myself. Not yet, anyway. My UpWork experience showed me that I could sell myself in the right conditions and do it remarkably well.

But for now, I have to imagine myself in a regular low-end type job. The kind where you show up, do you work, go home tired, and spend all the hours between getting home and going back to work recovering from the mental, spiritual, and physical strain that working that kind of job imposes upon people. \

Then again, I might get away with paying a lesser price because I am the sort of odd bird that actually likes doing customer service.

So if I had that sort of job, I might actually find it fun.

I’m so weird.

Regardless, if I was a real live human walking amongst you, I would no doubt have employment of some sort.

And honestly, that sounds wonderful to me. To have a place where I can go and have tasks that I can do given to me and to get paid to do those tasks sounds amazing.

Honestly, what I would want most was the validation. I want there to be a place where I am competent enough to do the job without fucking things up and where I feel like the people in charge believe me to be capable of the job, even if they only show it by not firing me yet.

It would also do me good to have co-workers, I think. Especially if I feel like I am perfectly capable of doing the job at least as well as the next employee, and therefore feel like I am their equal as opposed to my more usual attitude of feeling like I am always apologizing for myself.

And I could definitely benefit from being around sane, normal, healthy, sane people with normal lives and kids and cars and houses at least some of the time.

Hopefully, I would be able to learn a lot from such people about how to be alive on planet Earth and not lose your freaking mind.

Normal people know a lot of things I don’t know, which is why they are sane and I am not. I am not talking about book-learnin’, obviously, but something much deeper and vastly more important than it.

Things they don’t even know they know, but that I could learn from them by talking to them, observing them, and trying to incorporate their emotional patterns into my own psyche if I can.

I know that makes me sound like an alien trying to learn to be human and that’s not wrong. In many ways, that’s my exact situation. I’ve never had much proper human socialization and that means that despite all my mental wizardry, I am barely more than a toddler in terms of social adaptation.

And that really hurts.

But I don’t know how to fix that on my own.

And I don’t know how to get the sort of help I need either.

And that, in a nutshell, is my problem.

More after the break.

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If I were alive, I would probably have a man.

Probably a boyfriend, maybe even a husband. Someone to share my life with. Someone who cares about me.

Knowing me, it would be someone who cares FOR me as well.

Some of us are not meant to make it on our own.

Someone who “gets” me. Someone who understands what I am trying so hard to convey. That’s noit always an easy task but it’s still very, very important to me.

Someone who is patient and kind and who can live with how much physical affection I am going to need, at least at first.

I need cuddles. That’s non-negotiable.

Someone I can dote on, too. I am lavishly affectionate and have a strong need to express my love in gestures and words and anything else I can think of.

So any man of mine would have to be prepared to be gushed over. Maybe not in public. I can control myself that much, though I wouldn’t enjoy it.

But in private, watch the fuck out.

And he would have to appreciate me. He would have to know and love that he has someone who is unique and wonderful.

And brilliant. He would have to think I am amazingly intelligent and gifted. I am not sure why that is so important to me, but it is.

Any man of mine has to think I am a super talented and gifted genius.

That’s not negotiable either.

This isn’t a one way street, by the way. I would be a lot of good things for me too. It would not just be about meeting my own needs.

For example, I would be a very kind, considerate, and supportive lover. I have no problem being the supporting partner rather than the leading partner.

I could play June Cleaver to his Ward quite happily. Keep house for him, be there for him when he gets home from work, have a lot meal or a cocktail waiting for him when he gets there, rub the stress out of his poor tired muscles, listen to his day.

That all sounds quite wonderful to me.

And I would still have plenty of time for blogging and video games while he was at work. Cleaning up honestly doesn’t take that much time, especially if you are doing it daily,.

And I would have something to focus on : Keeping my man happy. Keeping myself happy just doesn’t seem to motivate me much, I dunno,maybe if I got better at it, it would, but then again, anhedonia’s a bitch.

Anyhow, in short, if I was a real person who was truly alive and living life, I would be a very different kind of person.

But at least I would be happy.

I will talk to you nice people tomorrow.